


Player

by chrissy2



Category: Bon Jovi
Genre: Assault, Insomnia From Past Times, Looking Back On Teenage Years, M/M, Silenced By Fear, Skipping School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrissy2/pseuds/chrissy2
Summary: When Jon learned that Richie was a popular football player in school, he didn't react too too well to it. And it was irrational to behave this way. Richie was a different person. He wasn't like the other...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction, not meant to harm the images of the real-life persons mentioned, nor to make money off of.

**I**

(Jonny admired _him._ Everyone did. All the fathers at the time wanted their sons to be just like him.)

 

**II**

It was just like any other hang out - beer, take-out food, notes scattered on the floor, laughter about past ridiculousness - and then the guitarist mentioned that one little detail, and Jon's mood changed entirely.

He felt his stomach drop a few inches, his smile dropped, his eyes widened and although the laughter among the guys was growing louder, Jon somehow went deaf to it all in a second, his mind racing with memories he promised he'd put behind him.

He isn't sure how long he just stands there, frozen, remembering all those horrible times. A sudden shatter of glass and wetness on his feet snaps him out of his strange trance. It was his own glass that slipped from the tips of his fingers and shattered onto the floor. His hearing returns in time for the silence to come after and Jon finds Dave, Teek, Rich and Alec staring at him.

"You okay, man?" Alec asks.

Jon insists that he's fine and leaves for his room, obviously nervous and embarrassed.

 

**III**

(He was the same way too.

_Him. It._

He was also very exuberant and attractive with humor and wit as well as good-looking. Jon should have known. They're all like that, aren't they?

No. No, they're not. Jon had to keep reminding himself that everyone was different and to not stereotype Richie based on a past event - _events.)_

 

**IV**

He reminded and reminded himself, and yet he still avoided Richie. He snapped at him for stupid crap, _stop messing around, stop being lazy, cut that out, you talk too much,_ _stop leaving all your crap on the floor,_ gave him a look that mixed somewhere between anger and fear, a tenuous glistening that one could not tell was from the lighting or held-back tears.

Jon knew he went too far when Richie responded with silence, his child-like grin falling to a frown, his brown eyes widening and darkening in hurt and confusion.

Then Jon would reflect the hurt, and apologize, "I...I'm sorry," and leave.

 

**V**

(The first time was in the locker room. Jon and _him_ were the only ones in there. The boy was fifteen, and Jon was thirteen. He did not notice all the others leave. The boy - tall and tan and muscular, also like Richie - starts joking about their coach and how funny he looks, how his yelling voice sounds like a combination between a donkey and a cat, and little Jonny burst into giggles.

Then the boy starts teasing him about his laugh, making Jonny look down and blush in embarrassment. As he looks down at his feet, the football player inches closer. He charms his way down to him, getting close enough to pinch at his scrawny sides, tickling him to the floor and making him laugh some more.

_You're puny too,_ he remembers the boy joking, _girls don't like puny boys._

Then somehow, the tanned boy above him grows darker, his large hand is holding Jon's two small wrists - his shorts down and shirt up - the wetness of the boy's mouth felt in places its not supposed to be - feeling things he should not be feeling.

Jon is so shocked that he doesn't even squeak. His mind goes blank.

_One of the teachers showed me this. It's kinda cool. You'll like it too. All boys like this.)_

 

**VI**

Jon and Richie don't collaborate for days, weeks, and it's not good. They started a band together - they need to work together.

"Come on," he heard Richie say from the other side of his bedroom door. "Talk to me, man. Whatever it is I did, I'm sorry. Just tell me what to do and we'll make everything better."

Unable to control himself, Jon says, "You didn't do it. It's not your fault."

"Well, it must be," he replies. "You're avoiding me like the plague, and you've been acting weird for days. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, just leave it alone. I'm just having some off days. I'm allowed to have bad days."

 

**VII**

(He can't remember how many times he was _taken_ and where - the bathroom, the park, the woods, later his car - when he starts fighting. _Stop that! This is weird!_

He remembers the older, taller, stronger boy smirking, _Stop what?_

_Stop touching me._

_Why? What's the matter? Does it make you uncomfortable? You gonna tell on me? You can't fight me._

Jon tries to anyway, and the boy mocks him, overpowers him, keeps him quiet with a hand over his mouth, _Shut up! You want to be found like this? You'll be the laughing stock of the whole school. All your friends'll laugh at you. And if you get me in trouble, my whole team'll be out to get you! We'll get your family in trouble too. My dad's rich._

Those words always silenced and stilled him every time.)

 

**VIII**

The reminder that Jon repeated to himself was one day repeated by Lemma, when he and Jon were the only ones on the couch that morning, the TV barely buzzing alive: "He's not _him,_ you know."

"I know." The response comes out too quickly, no eye contact to confirm any validity behind it.

"No. Listen to me." He can feel the couch sink as Lemma inches closer to whisper. "I would never let anyone like that near you. You know that. Richie - he's not like that. He was a piece of shit. Richie is a genuinely nice guy."

Jon still doesn't look at him.

"This whole thing - you avoiding him - it has really hurt him, you know. He really thinks it's his fault. He is driving himself crazy trying to figure out what he's done wrong. He wanted to join this band when he didn't have to. He admires you, Jon."

 

**IX**

(It was Lemma who saved him, protected him. He recognized the signs, the cries for help - the silence, the dull stare, the flinching at the slightest touch. They made fun of Jon for it, for having a _little bodyguard,_ but he stopped messing with him ever since. Lemma wanted to report him, but Jon insisted that he not do it. You just didn't do that back in the day, especially if you were a _boy._

Boys were not victims. They just weren't tough enough.)

 

**X**

"Rich?"

The tanned man looks up from the guitar in his hands to find Jon shyly standing at his doorway, shoulders up, a questionable half-smile and darting eyes. "Oh, hey," Rich says, trying to sound as inviting as possible.

 Jon struggles to believe that his smile and the warmth in his eyes, his voice, is what it is. He wants to believe in Rich so badly. He hopes Dave is right about him. And if it is the case as 'what you see is what you get', then Jon will grow to love him again. "Mind if I join you?" the singer asks, also trying to reflect the friendliness.

Rich looks confused and shocked for a split second, then pats the side of the bed, smile growing. "Of course."

 

**XI**

(Jon stops going to school entirely, Dave with him all the way. He never wants to see that boy again. How he managed to not tell his parents without dying of the suffocation of the secret, or the drugs he took to overcome the secret, is beyond him.)

 

**XII**

The apology is over and done, and Jon and Richie collaborate again.

This little session is different.

Jon isn't sure what started it, or who started it, but by the end of the session, some notes here, some lyrics there, Jon is on his back, Richie looming over him, their lips together and their tongues battling fiercely, Jon's arms locked around the tanned man's neck. After a bit, their lips red and swollen and wet, Richie breaks the kiss with a click and looks down at Jon, the illusion of a shadow about him. "What's wrong?" he whispers.

"What do you mean?" Jon asks.

A calloused finger brushes away some of Jon's bangs out of his eyes. "You look...scared."

_Aw, look how scared you are. Keep quiet and do as your told and you'll be just fine._

"I'm not scared."

"You sure?"

_Say that you love me._

"Yes," he assures, gulping down a dry gulp.

_Say please._

_Tell me I'm beautiful._

"Jon?"

"You're beautiful."


End file.
